


you know it can get hard sometimes

by thekaidonovskys



Series: we found love in a hopeless place [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Bad Days, Dom Clint Barton, M/M, Sub Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4267806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Full house, then.</p><p>Phil doesn't care. He walks in, straight over to Clint, and sinks to his knees at his side.</p><p>[After Phil’s subdrop and subsequent realization that the team really don’t mind if he’s a bit subby around them, life gets a bit easier. Especially on the bad days.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor sexual content warning - only really discussion and implication, nothing overt. (For those unsure about why this warning is in place; I’m asexual, and I have quite a few asexual followers/readers who I know appreciate warnings for even minor implications of sexual content. Basically if you’re not sex repulsed, disregard.)

Phil gets home just after six, exhausted and grumpy. He dumps his things by the door, shoves his tie in his pocket, then goes hunting for his Dom.

Clint, having had a day off, is in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar with Natasha, Bruce and Thor. Steve's there too, over by the coffee pot, and Tony's rifling through the fridge.

Full house, then.

Phil doesn't care. He walks in, straight over to Clint, and sinks to his knees at his side.

The conversation halts, but Clint's hand slides into his hair without hesitation. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning down to talk to him. "Bad day?"

"Yeah."

"Need to go upstairs?"

"No. I'd rather everybody keep talking and completely ignore me."

"Easy. Want me to keep stroking your hair?"

"Please."

"Okay." Clint sits back up. "Phil's not here right now," he says. "Continue with your conversations."

"I'm sorry," Thor says, "but I can clearly see him. Is this one of your metaphors I am unfamiliar with?"

"Phil wants to be ignored," Bruce explains quietly. "Don't ask why - that's for Clint to know. Just don't pay attention to him."

"Your show's about to start anyway," Natasha tells him. Thor’s recently become obsessed with reality TV - currently he’s addicted to Keeping up with the Kardashians, something that always leads to many questions that nobody else in the building has any chance of being able to answer.

"Thank you, my fair lady," Thor says, and sweeps out to the living room.

"I need to head out too," Tony says, shutting the fridge. "Pepper's insisting on me taking her out for a nice dinner."

"Then why were you in the fridge?" Steve asks.

"Because her idea of nice food is not my idea of nice food." Tony sighs. "Ah well, we all must suffer for the ones we love. See you later."

Steve takes Thor's abandoned seat and pours out coffee to the others. He doesn't offer it to Phil, which impresses Phil quite a lot since Steve has the most ingrained manners of anybody, and to ignore somebody can't be easy for him. But he's doing it - they're all doing it.

Phil's extremely grateful.

He listens to their conversation for awhile - weapon comparisons, various SHIELD records they've all broken, various SHIELD rules they’ve all broken (Phil doesn’t listen to that one of course) - but eventually the others disperse too. Steve has a new movie to watch, Bruce wants to tinker with one of his projects, and Natasha slips out at some point that Phil's not aware of. She's too good at that.

That just leaves himself and Clint. Clint keeps his hand in Phil's hair, stroking it softly, and sips his coffee. He doesn't say a word, just hums quietly to himself, as if he were completely alone.

Eventually, Phil lifts his head and shifts off his knees, standing up and then sitting back on one of the stools. Clint smiles at him, letting his hand rest warm and solid on Phil's shoulder. "Ready to be acknowledged again?"

"Yeah. Thanks for that."

"Of course. Want to tell me about it?"

Phil sighs. "It’s not a big deal. Just - all day, all I got was people at my door, people needing me for things. Reports, stupid disagreements to mediate, complaints... all day. I didn't get to stop, didn't get five minutes to check my emails or make any of the phone calls I needed to. Didn't get lunch, so you owe me a punishment. And once it was over, I just needed to come home and be... not needed. To just be still and small and quiet, and blissfully unwanted."

"I'll always want you, dearest," Clint says, "but I understand. You're feeling better now?"

"Mostly. Still tired."

"I won't ask you to cook. I also don't plan on punishing you for missing lunch, unless you really insist on it. That wasn't your fault."

"I'm not going to insist. Don't really want to feel worse about my day."

"Then don't." Clint suddenly grins. "Oh, hey, I've had a wonderful idea."

"Yeah?"

"How about while I go pick up some Thai for dinner -" Phil hums approvingly at that part; he's definitely in the mood for Thai, "- you go and take a nice long bath?"

Phil smiles. "That's one of your better ideas."

"All of my ideas are good, thank you very much," Clint says with a smirk. He cups Phil's cheek, kisses him softly, then stands. "Okay, upstairs you go. I want to see you at least ten times more relaxed when I get back."

Phil goes. As he's heading to the lift, Bruce is coming towards him from the other direction. He glances at Phil, clearly uncertain, and Phil smiles. "Hey, Bruce," he says.

Bruce smiles back. "Hi, Phil. I'm afraid Thor is going to have some questions for you."

"Tell him I'll be happy to speak with him tomorrow."

"Will do. You doing better?"

"Much, thank you."

"Glad to hear it. Hey, you know that field simulation Tony and I were working on? It's just about live, so if you've got time this weekend...?"

"I'd love to check it out. Did you sort out the issue with -"

Clint clears his throat from down the hall, where he's putting on his jacket.  "Upstairs, Phil," he says. "Sorry, Bruce, but I know what you two are like - you'll be talking half the night, and I need Phil to go and relax."

"Sorry," Phil says to both of them, and hits the button to call the lift.

Bruce smiles. "Understood," he says, and heads towards the kitchen.

Phil heads up to Clint's room - their room, really, but for the time being he still has his own - and runs the bath. All the bathrooms in the tower are opulent, baths big enough to hold two (or three if so inclined), and Phil smiles as he thinks of the baths he and Clint have shared. Clint loves bathing subs, but Phil's been a bit hesitant - he likes the premise and encourages anything that means more caretaking from Clint, but it just feels strange to think of being bathed by Clint without Clint actually being in there with him. So, for now, Clint joins him in the bath, and uses it as a time for them to just relax together. Clint's promised there's no hurry or obligation, but Phil is always keenly aware that there's always a hurry, that every mission might mean -

He shoves that thought away hard and turns off the tap. Clearly his bad day has gotten under his skin more than Phil realized if he's thinking forbidden thoughts, and he begins undressing with the reminder that the day is over and Clint’s going to take care of him.

The bath helps. Phil closes his eyes and relaxes, letting the tension seep out of him. It's not like anything bad happened today, just all the little things that pile up to make the day bad in summary, and Phil lets them all go, slowing his breathing until he feels calm enough to start to float away.

It feels like such a short time later when the front door is opening, and Phil listens to the sounds of Clint putting bags down and moving about, before footsteps approach the bathroom. Phil opens a tired eye, smiling at Clint when he enters. "Hey, you," he murmurs.

"Hey, yourself." Clint leans against the sink, smiling at him with such fondness. "You look so damn content," he says. "I don't want to ask you to get out."

"You could always join me?"

Clint grins. "That," he says, pulling off his shirt, "is a fantastic idea." He gets the rest of his clothes off fast, then crosses to the bath. "Sit forward for me?"

Phil does, a little slow and sleepy, and Clint sits behind him, wrapping his arms around Phil's waist. Phil leans back against him with a sigh, turning his head so his cheek is pressed against Clint's chest. "Love you," he murmurs.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Anything you need from me?"

"Tell me I'm good?"

It comes out needier than Phil would have liked, and Clint lifts one of his hands to Phil's neck, stroking where his collar would be if it weren't sitting on the bench top with the rest of his clothes. "You are so good," he says. "You're my sweet, beautiful, good boy."

Phil makes a soft noise, finding Clint's hand still at his waist and lacing their fingers together. "Thank you," he says quietly.

“You’re welcome. Everything okay?"

"It is now. Just... just good to get reassurance. I never asked if we could use ignoring as a coping mechanism."

"No, but it's pretty standard. I won't ever do it for longer than a few hours, though, and you've just shown why - I ignored you for half an hour and you needed reassurance that you're still good. Too long and it becomes detrimental."

"Sorry."

"No apologies. I expected this, and I certainly don't mind reminding my beautiful boy how good he is - especially for coming straight to me and trusting me to take care of him."

Phil’s not sure he’ll ever get used to this praise thing. He’s not sure he wants to either. "Nobody minded, did they?" he asks.

"No, sweetheart, not a bit. I think it was quite humbling for them to know that you trust them enough to be who you need to be."

"Just don't want to make anybody uncomfortable," Phil says. "I feel like our private life should stay private - obviously I'm yours and they know that, and they don't care or judge, I know that too, and I didn't feel like I did anything wrong today. But public acts of submission still feel... weird." He's struggling to try and find the words, but Clint stays quiet and patient. "It's like it's unfair on them to make them watch it. Isn't it uncomfortable, like excessive PDA?"

Clint chuckles softly. "Nothing is uncomfortable like excessive PDA," he says. "No, it's nothing of the sort. In fact, it can be quite calming. Want some insight into a Dom's mind?"

"Please."

"When a Dom sees a sub in distress, no matter how minimal, the protective instincts kick in. When you came into the room looking so tired and frustrated and mad at the world, every person in there wanted to fix it for you. It's just in our nature - subs in distress hurt us."

Phil isn't feeling any better. "So I hurt everybody?"

"No, honey. Because you came and sat at my feet and told me what you needed, and I gave it to you. In fact, everybody was able to help give you what you needed, and I think that's what was so humbling about it. But once they all knew you were safe and your Dom was looking after you... it's like an odd contentment. Seeing a sub being taken care of and knowing that they're happy and loved, it's such a beautiful thing, and it made everybody feel better."

"Oh," Phil says quietly. "So it's a bit like when I was in sub drop and Steve got comfort from seeing me looked after?"

"Quite similar, yes. And also why it's so good for him when you go to him like you did last week, because he knows he's got a sub that feels safe and happy around him, and it feels like things are more in control. It's hard to feel sad when there's a content sub around."

Phil smiles a little, then frowns. "So under that logic..."

"Yeah?"

"Well, back when I was uncollared, and I'd come home after a stressful day and be tired and... well, exactly like I was today. When I didn't have a Dom to settle me, and you all knew that and knew that you could make it better but you couldn't. Was that...?"

"Don't remind me," Clint says. "God, Phil. Do you remember when the Hong Kong op went to shit and you came home and told us how many of your agents had died?"

“Vividly." That one had been hell, and Phil had barely been projecting neutral when he’d told the team about that one, too shaken up by the unexpected and gruesome events. He’d registered the worry on their faces, and had done his best to act as normal and put together as possible the following day, but Phil hadn’t quite realised where that worry had stemmed from, expecting only general concern for the families of the dead.

Now he understands.

"The pain in your eyes," Clint says quietly. "Oh, sweetheart, all anybody wanted to do was hold you tight and make it better, or take you down to a place where you could feel safe in your own mind, but we couldn't. Nobody was even going to offer, because we respect the hell out of you Phil and we always knew you didn't have to have a Dom to be our superior and offering to make it better would have gone against that. But that was the worst. And don't you dare apologize," he adds as Phil opens his mouth. "It's nobody's fault, just the way things are."

Phil wasn’t planning on it. "I would've let you," he says. "That night I would've taken anybody who was willing to look after me."

"You're serious?" Phil nods and Clint groans. "I came to your floor. I nearly knocked, but then I talked myself out of it. I could have helped, though?" He sighs. "Damn. That hurts."

"It's in the past. Leave it there."

"Yeah, you're right. I have you to take care of now, and that's what matters." Phil's stomach growls shockingly loud then, and Clint chuckles. "Case in point. I've not forgotten that you didn't have lunch - there are large amounts of Thai out there with your name on it."

"Mm. But I'm comfortable."

"You're also hungry," Clint says. "Come on, beautiful, time to get you out.

Phil gripes a little, but sits forward so Clint can get out. He watches through lazy eyes as Clint dries himself off, then sighs and draws upon the last of his energy reserves to get himself upright and on the bathmat. He picks up his towel, looks at Clint who's just putting on his bathrobe, then hesitantly holds the towel out. "Could you?" he asks.

Clint's smile is beautiful. "Of course," he says softly, and takes the towel. "Do you just need more affection, or are you wanting your responsibilities taken away?"

"Both?"

"Easily." Clint begins to dry him off, his touch gentle but firm. "I do wish Thai were a more hand-feeding friendly food," he says. "But I can put you at my feet to eat if that would make you happier?"

"Yes please."

"Consider it done. Do you need anything else taken away?" Phil tilts his head in confusion, and Clint smiles, drying his shoulders. "Voice, sight, hands - after dinner, of course - anything of that sort?"

Phil thinks, then shakes his head. "Not taken, just... not demanded? If I need to not talk for awhile, but not lose the option completely?"

"No obligations, no pressures?" Phil nods, trying not to squirm when Clint runs the towel across his sides. "I can do that for you, sweet boy. I've got -" he pauses, biting his lip a little. "Alex gave me a book to try out. He said it's a good one to read aloud to my sub, but if that would disturb you...?"

"I'd love to hear it," Phil says, keeping his tone light. Alex is Clint's dyslexia mentor, who he visits once a week to work on his reading. Clint rarely speaks about his dyslexia, nor does he ever do much in the way of reading aloud. Phil is not prepared to let this moment slip away. "Your voice is calming," he says. "It makes me feel safe."

Clint smiles a little. "It won't be the smoothest reading," he warns.

"I like you rough around the edges."

Clint sinks to his knees to dry Phil's legs, and smiles up at him. It's disarming, the change in perspective, and Clint laughs softly after a moment. "Yeah, I know, weird huh?" He dries each leg in turn, then glances up again, hesitating at Phil's hips. "Okay if I...?"

"Yeah. Just don't expect me not to respond."

"I know how responsive you are, sweetheart." Clint dries him off, so careful and unassuming, but Phil still hardens noticeably. "Are you in the mood?" Clint asks. "Because I'm down here now if you're interested."

Phil shakes his head. "Not really. Sorry."

"That's okay." Clint stands and gets Phil's bathrobe off the hook, waiting for Phil to put it on before stepping forward and putting his collar back around his neck, fingers brushing lightly against the leather. Once Phil's all sorted, Clint folds him into an embrace. "You know I don't mind, right?"

"Yeah. Just feels like I should want you more. And all the wild weekends you used to have -"

"Have left me exhausted," Clint completes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Two or three times a week is plenty, beautiful. You don't have to want me sexually all the time to be everything I've ever wanted. It's not like I don't get you the rest of those nights, and as long as you're in my arms, I'm happy."

"Me too." Phil kisses him, then breaks away sheepishly when his stomach makes itself known again. "So, about that Thai?"

Clint wasn't kidding about the truly impressive amount of food he's bought - Phil ends up with four containers of food, but he really doesn't mind, considering how ravenous he is. Clint knows his favourites, and just smiles when Phil sighs in contentment as he examines the food. "I'm so glad food is a pleasure for you," he says. "Come to the couch."

Clint also hadn't been kidding about letting Phil kneel. He sets up a kneeler and tray next to his seat and takes a moment to fuss over Phil, making sure he's got everything he needs before sitting down. This is still relatively new - Phil’s always just had cushions to kneel on for extended periods of time, and usually if he’s kneeling to eat it’s because Clint’s handfeeding him. But sometimes Phil needs this, needs to be on the ground while he eats, and he can’t really articulate why. Thankfully Clint doesn’t need him to be able to, and simply bought him what he wanted and went with it. Clint’s good at that.

Phil looks up at him, and Clint smiles. "Thank you, master," Phil murmurs.

"My pleasure, dearest."

Clint turns the TV on for background noise, and they eat in relative silence. Every few mouthfuls, Phil leans his head against Clint's knee, and Clint occasionally strokes his hair. It's soft and simple and exactly what Phil needs.

He doesn't quite get through all of the food, but a valiant attempt is made and Clint seems satisfied. He takes the containers away, gently ordering Phil to stay when he half-rises to help, then returns with a book in hand. There's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't apparent before, and Clint glances at him almost nervously as he sits back down.

Phil catches his free hand and kisses his palm. "I love you," he murmurs. "And I'm proud of you. You work so hard on this, and you deserve to know how amazing I think you are."

Clint smiles. "Thank you, Phil," he says quietly. “Still want to stay down?”

“Yes, but I might ditch the kneeler.” Clint nods, and Phil shifts off it, taking a moment to stretch his legs before curling up next to Clint’s leg, leaning against him and resting his head on Clint’s thigh. “This okay?” he asks, wrapping his arms around Clint’s leg.

“Very okay.” Clint strokes his hair for a moment, then lifts his hand and Phil hears the book open. "It's a murder mystery. When you inevitably work out who did it a quarter of the way through, don't tell me."

"My lips are sealed."

Phil does end up working it out pretty quickly, which is good because he doesn't need to focus on the words themselves. He can just listen to Clint's tone - soft, smooth, and a little hesitant. Occasionally there's a pause as Clint works out a word, or a sigh of frustration when he gets it wrong. When that happens, Phil gently nuzzles into his leg, but doesn't speak. Silent reassurance is best when Clint's vulnerable.

It's a relatively short book, and Clint's done in just over an hour. Phil doesn't raise his head when Clint puts it aside, and after a moment Clint chuckles lightly and begins stroking his hair. "Did I put you to sleep, sweetheart?" he asks when Phil murmurs in response.

"Nearly." Phil yawns and lifts his head. "You have a beautiful reading voice."

Clint blushes a little, but smiles fondly down at him. "You're too sweet. I'll ask Alex to get a few more of those in. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"You look done in." Clint strokes his cheek softly, and Phil leans into the touch, closing his eyes. "Want me to take you to bed?"

Clint doesn't look tired at all. "Will you sleep? It's only eight."

"I probably won't fall asleep quite that easily," Clint admits, "but I won't complain for a second about getting to hold my beautiful boy for awhile."

Phil won't complain either. He gets to his feet, yawning as he does, and Clint follows him to the bedroom. "When was the last time I actually slept in my own room?" Phil asks.

"Hm." Clint disappears into the bathroom, but leaves the door open while Phil gets pyjama pants out for them both - it's not that they have any qualms about sleeping naked, and have done several times, but they both just prefer it this way. "It's been at least a few months," Clint says after a few moments of thought. "And I think it's only been maybe twice since I collared you?"

Phil muses on that as he gets dressed, Clint doing the same when he returns from the bathroom. Phil takes his own turn, then contemplates some more as he brushes his teeth.

"You're very thoughtful all of a sudden," Clint says lightly when Phil returns and switches off the main lights. "Worth sharing?"

Phil climbs into bed, but leaves the lamp on for a moment, turning to look at Clint. "My room is all but useless," he says. "All it really has in it is stuff I probably can just throw out since I haven't needed it in the last few months. If I'm ever not sharing your bed, it'll either be because I'm in trouble or... well, no, that's it."

"And I don't punish by making you sleep on the floor," Clint reminds him. "You know you're welcome to make the final move whenever you like, sweet boy. Though, as you say, it's really more about saying the words and making it official than actually moving in."

Phil looks around the room, at all of the additions he's brought in over the last few months, and smiles. "Our room," he says.

"That sounds perfect." Clint kisses him softly. "Let's celebrate the first night sleeping in our room by making sure you get a good nights sleep."

"You're so good to me."

"I try my hardest," Clint says quietly. "You deserve all the goodness I can give."

Phil turns the lamp off and finds his way into familiar arms. "I love you," he murmurs once he's made himself comfortable, pressing a kiss to Clint's shoulder.

"I love you too, dearest one. Get some sleep. I'll keep you safe."

In Clint's arms, there's nothing else he could possibly be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint’s dyslexia is something I’ve read in other stories and liked seeing, since I feel it’s something that isn’t often written about. It probably won’t be a central plot point though.
> 
> Next chapter: another bad day, a very different coping mechanism - and a little bit of insight into just why Phil’s having all these bad days all of a sudden.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil pauses outside the door to the apartment for a long moment, then nods to himself and lets himself in, going straight to the bedroom to change. His usual simple home attire donned, Phil opens a drawer and removes a black box - one of Clint's many gifts. 
> 
> This one is a bit different to the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last little bit of peace and quiet before the shit hits the fan. Enjoy it :)

SHIELD is really no stranger to long, frustrating days. And Phil bears the brunt of many of them.   
  
In the past, the day wouldn't end until Phil collapsed into bed, after taking stacks of files home and working himself to exhaustion. Now, the day ends when he enters the tower. Clint's made that very clear - sometimes work needs to come home, yes, but only tidy up things that really can't wait for the following day. And those things are usually done at Clint's feet anyway. When the day is done, Phil is off duty - he isn't SHIELD's anymore, he's Clint's. And that isn't Clint's possessiveness talking (well, not completely), but Phil's own want - _need_ \- to be off duty. There's nothing better at the end of a long day than to come home and push SHIELD as far away as possible - and there's no better way to do that than to sub out.   
  
Except, not every day.   
  
Phil pauses outside the door to the apartment for a long moment, then nods to himself and lets himself in, going straight to the bedroom to change. His usual simple home attire donned, Phil opens a drawer and removes a black box - one of Clint's many gifts.   
  
This one is a bit different to the others.   
  
The thick white cuff snaps securely around his wrist, comfortable and immediately noticeable. The familiar feel of something around his wrist settles Phil just a little, as always, and after that it's easy to head out to the apartment to find Clint.   
  
Clint's at the kitchen table, reviewing combat footage. He looks up at Phil's entrance, about to speak - then his eyes flick down to Phil's wrist, and he nods minutely, his expression shifting just a little. The exchange takes no more than a second, and Clint's smile is still as easy and welcoming as before, but the acknowledgement has been made. "Hey," Clint says, pushing the screen aside and standing. "You're home early."  
  
"Brought the work home. There's not much, but if one more person came into my office, I was going to scream."  
  
"Isn't it nice to be wanted?" Phil rolls his eyes and Clint chuckles. "I was thinking about ordering in," he says, turning to the drawer of takeout menus. "That suit you?"  
  
"Fine with me." Phil's already setting up his work opposite Clint's, getting his files in order and his own screen pulled down while Clint gets the menus out. "Can we do Malaysian? I'm craving the beef and broccoli."  
  
"Sure," Clint agrees easily, and a moment later is on the phone to place the order. Phil watches him for a moment, working through the sudden spasm of guilt and confusion that threatens to take him to his knees, then sighs and shakes it off, turning back to his work.   
  
There's a first time for everything, and that includes the all important white cuff.   
  
***  
  
 _"I want you to have this."_  
  
 _Clint normally isn't so serious when he gives gifts. Phil opens the box carefully, and can't help but frown as he takes in the stark white cuff. "Are you taking me to a club?" he asks, wincing when his voice comes out timid._  
  
 _Clint winces too, stroking the back of Phil's neck. "No, I'm not," he says. "I forgot they use white there too. It's not a protection cuff - well, not exactly. But it's not for show, and neither are you. Nobody will see it but me."_  
  
 _"But it is a protection cuff?"_  
  
 _"Not exactly," Clint repeats, lifting the cuff out of the box but making no move to put it on Phil. "It's not about indicating your level of expertise or vulnerability, it's like... kind of like in war, I guess? Waving a white flag usually means surrender, but it also means peace and truce - and ultimately, freedom."_  
  
 _Phil understands now. "Equal playing field?"_  
  
 _Clint nods. "Maybe sometimes you'll come home after a long day and not want to submit. Of course you can simply tell me that and I'll respect it, but this gives you a way to not have to worry about that conversation. Put this on and it indicates that you're not available to submit; unless I'm worried for your safety, I don't get to ask anything of you while you wear it. You don't have to say why or mention it at all until you're ready, and when you take it off there'll be no repercussions. You'll just be my sweet boy again."_  
  
 _Phil takes the cuff from Clint's hands, sets it aside, then wraps his arms around Clint, pressing his forehead to Clint's shoulder. "Thank you," Phil murmurs._  
  
 _He hopes Clint hears the conviction in his words - because it isn't about having the option, but that Clint cares enough to give it to him._  
  
 _Clint runs his fingers through Phil's hair. "My pleasure. Selfishly, I hope you don't need it too often."_  
  
 _"Me neither. I like subbing for you." Phil smiles. "Making you proud."_  
  
 _"Oh yeah?" Clint asks lightly, and the silent prove it is almost audible._  
  
 _Phil slides to his knees, back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind him. "Master," he murmurs._  
  
 _"Such a good boy," Clint says, tracing his fingers down Phil's cheek._  
  
 _The white cuff immediately becomes the last thing on either of their minds._   
  
***  
  
But it's there. It's been there for over a month, and tonight is the first time Phil's so much as pulled it out of the drawer.   
  
Phil had honestly thought it would be a long time before he needed this, especially since they're still technically in the honeymoon stage. At just on three months, and with a mutual agreement to take things slow and easy, they're still discovering one another and aren't even close to pushing soft limits or playing on intense levels. It's been good and sweet and just what Phil's needed - but today he just can't go there. Not yet, anyway.   
  
It's not even about the work. The work can wait (even though Phil's going to do it anyway). It's about needing to feel in control of himself for awhile - because today has been out of control, full of situations that Phil's been helpless in. There's been some dissent within SHIELD lately, people acting in unusual ways and others, like Phil, feeling unusually powerless to stop it. Even Fury's been a bit unsettled, and the Avengers, by association, are feeling that something isn't right. There's nothing obvious going on just yet, but everybody's on guard.   
  
Phil is trying very hard not to bring that home with him, and usually it helps to be put in his place by Clint, taken down soft and gentle and easy. But not always. Not tonight. Tonight, Phil needs his own control.   
  
So he settles in with his work, ignoring the odd disconnect he feels when Clint's the one picking up the food and bringing it to him - Phil knows they haven't switched, Clint is absolutely not subbing for him right now, but it's hard to ignore the fact that he's supposed to be doing those sorts of tasks. Still, it's important, and Phil's grateful when Clint brings him his food and sits with him while they eat, happy to stay quiet while Phil works.   
  
Once they're done, Clint takes the containers away, then returns to lean over Phil's shoulder and watch him work for a few minutes. Eventually, probably bored, Clint kisses his cheek and straightens up. "I'm gonna go watch TV," he says. "Think you'll be much longer?"  
  
"Probably another hour or so."  
  
"Okay." Clint squeezes his shoulders gently before letting go. "Don't work too hard."  
  
It isn't an order - but it is a reminder. Phil might not be available for submission right now, but Clint is still his Dom and Phil is still bound by the rules of his contract. If Phil does overwork tonight, Clint can and will tell him to stop, and Phil will be expected to obey. If he needs a temporary but complete out from the contract, that's a safeword matter (and a whole other situation, requiring a damn lot of conversation before it happens). Right now, Phil doesn't have to serve or submit, but he does have to abide by the rules that they've set in stone - the kind that come with punishments if they're broken. Overworking is one of those.   
  
It's actually nice to hear. Phil, no matter his frame of mind, always likes to know that his Dom is looking out for him and keeping him safe.   
  
He only ends up putting in another half hour before calling it quits. Clint's found something entertaining on TV, and Phil can hear him laughing, and it's too enticing to ignore. Phil packs up, shuts down, and goes through to collapse on the couch next to Clint. "All done?" Clint asks.   
  
Phil yawns. "For tonight."  
  
"Good. Want to cuddle?"  
  
"Do I ever say no?"  
  
Clint chuckles and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Phil leans against him, head on Clint's shoulder, and Clint kisses the top of his head. "Anything you want to watch?"  
  
"You pick."  
  
Clint's pick is very obviously for Phil instead of himself, but they both quickly get into it, sharing their horror over how two people can hoard so much stuff. When they reveal over fifty sets of cuffs and restraints, at least thirty of them frayed, worn, and broken, Phil turns pointed eyes on Clint. "Now, I know you love buying me things," he says, "but that will never be us."  
  
Clint laughs. "Baby, I'd never let you wear anything that worn out. The amount of things, however..."  
  
"Nobody needs fifty sets of restraints."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I think I could restrain you fifty different ways."  
  
"At the same time?"  
  
"I'm an optimist."  
  
Phil rolls his eyes and settles back in, smiling.   
  
The show is halfway through when Phil unsnaps the cuff from his arm and removes it, setting it on the table. Clint's only reaction is a soft squeeze of Phil's shoulder, a reminder more than anything that Phil's fine where he is. In the initial discussion, Phil had been anxious about whether Clint needed to be able to reassert his dominance at this point, but Clint made it clear during that conversation that it wasn't required. With that in mind, Phil quite happily stays where he is for another twenty minutes.   
  
After that, it's just desire that wins out, and Clint chuckles softly when Phil slips off the couch to settle at his feet. "Knew you were getting restless," he says.   
  
Phil rests his head on Clint's knee with a contented hum. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he says.   
  
"Absence from the floor?" Phil nods and Clint laughs. "You're too cute. Want to talk about anything, sweetheart?"  
  
Phil shakes his head. "Nothing to discuss. Just a long, out of control day. Needed some time to be my own master, so to speak."  
  
Clint strokes his hair. "No need to say another word."  
  
Phil does, though. "Something's gonna happen," he murmurs. "Your feeling is right."  
  
"I know," Clint says. "Knowing our luck, it'll go down while we're on this op."  
  
Phil nods. They leave in three days, and their projected mission time is six days - which really means about three weeks. "I don't know whether to be glad that we might be out of it, or panicking about what we might return to."  
  
"Nat's gonna keep us informed," Clint reminds him. "If shit really hits the fan, we call for emergency extraction and get back. But until it happens, sweet boy, it does you no good stressing about it. Focus on what you can control."  
  
"I'd rather focus on what you can control." Phil smirks. "Fifty different restraints, hm?"  
  
"Is that a challenge?"  
  
"I would never challenge you, master. If you say you can do it, I have complete faith in you." Phil pauses, doing his best to smile innocently up at Clint. "But clearly I'm not as smart as master, because I can't quite see how it would work."  
  
Clint's eyes are sparkling. "And to think you told me you weren't much of a brat," he says. "When it comes to snark, I think you're the brattiest I've ever had."  
  
"But in a good way?"  
  
"In the best way," Clint confirms. "The kind that makes me want to tie you up and take my sweet time with you."  
  
Phil leans over and picks up the white cuff. "Out of curiosity alone, what would happen if I wanted sex whilst wearing this?"  
  
"The most vanilla sex you've ever had," Clint says immediately. "No restraints, no pinning you down, and definitely no telling you that you're a good boy."  
  
Phil wrinkles up his nose and drops it again. "But I am a good boy," he says.   
  
"Damn right you are." Clint stands and holds out a hand. "Let's see just how good, shall we?"  
  
Phil is only too happy to obey, and to leave the white cuff behind. It's served its purpose for tonight, and, while the world outside still isn't any calmer or in control, Phil at least knows he's safe inside these walls. Whatever's going to go down is out of his control, but all the control Phil wants is here - whether owned by himself, or taken by his Dom. Either way, he knows things are okay.   
  
And, really, there's no point in worrying about what's going to happen. SHIELD is notorious for chaos and panic, and they've made it this far safe and sound. Whatever goes down next, Phil's sure the combination of the Avengers and SHIELD will be able to handle.   
  
What's the worst that could happen, after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next fic: the worst that could happen. Or, perhaps, the best.


End file.
